The strong survive [J]

Since you didn't mention what his gaze was holding, I just assumed it wasn't Tonravik's gaze >_> Cos she would eat

Tonravik was implacable ice, all hard and cold, and watched as his ears slicked backward and tail lowered. He was amicable at best, and Tonravik took another step forward. It mattered not if he carried the name, only that he show due respect. Her own ears leaned evermore forward, doing more than words could and demanding he lower that proud head of his lest she take it from him. Tonravik knew better than to think or believe that respect was earned or gained with time. Leaders were leaders, and they were in this place because that respect had been earned long ago. Her way of it was forceful, but efficient. 

Her mate was soon beside her, and the pale male spoke. His accent was familiar, too, she realized, and she took another heavy step forward. His implication was lost on her, for Tonravik was oblivious to anything but the literal meaning of words as she knew them (if she even knew them), and the woman caught on only when he mentioned caretaker.

"You should learn to not speak unless spoken to." Her eyes darkened, her irritation palpable. The man was right; she would need to stop this. But he had called, and the call had been to familiar a call to ignore. In any case, it was clear she would not answer his questions; he would answer to her, first. Soldiers, he had said; he was familiar with the militant lifestyle they upheld here.

The woman rumbled, "Why have you called." The single question was truly a plethora of them. Who are you. What are you doing here. What do you want. She would have each of them answered.